Overreaction
by AlterMe01
Summary: Post-Rent: Told from Mark and Roger's perspectives. Wasn't going to be a series but I decided I had to-Please review
1. Default Chapter

[Author Notes- I have the beginning and the ending completed, but plan to add quite a bit to the middle

[Author Notes- This is just a rough copy; it still needs quite a few additions and changes.  I never owned any of these characters, won't pretend to-they belong to the late, amazing Jonathan Larson. Thought I'd contribute my thoughts on what could have happened after the end of Rent.  Despite the 'happy ending' of the musical, I believe that little has changed for Mark.  He manages to finish a film but what else is there for him?  I can imagine him returning to his state as that during Halloween but taking it further.  Comments would be appreciated]

{Roger}

"Where is he?" Collins asked aloud.

            Why can't they just have patience like normal human beings?  Yea, Mark should have been home almost an hour ago but his plans could have changed since we last talked.  He hasn't been speaking to me much, since Mimi's death shortly after the New Year.  Although we didn't have much time with one another, I know that Mimi died content knowing that she was loved.  I've mourned the loss of her, but since her death Mark has detached himself from life even more.  Our friendship, once indestructible, has become more strained with each passing death.  He won't tell me what's going on and I feel as if I'm at my wits end.

            Mark thinks that we don't care about him; that he's unimportant.  It's the exact opposite-he's such a vital part of all our lives that for him to even think he's not loved hurts.  Which is why I decided throw a surprise birthday party for him.  I've been secretly making plans for this night for several weeks; saving money, calling everyone, trying to make sure he realizes just how special he is.  When he woke up this morning, I knew he was hurt when I didn't mention his birthday but I couldn't let on that I knew for fear I'd end up telling him the truth.  The pained expression in his eyes spoke volumes, but I hope he realizes how hard it was to stay indifferent and forgives me.

            "I just hope he likes the new camera.  You had no idea what I had to do to get that thing…" Maureen mutters.  We had all been pooling our money together for the past couple of weeks to buy Mark a camera that he's been ogling for months.  Maureen had somehow managed to get the camera for less than half of its retail price; something of that quality cost enough to live on for half a year.

            "Honey, how exactly did you manage to get such a great deal anyways?  You still haven't told me that story." Joanne's eyes got a jealous glaze, but her deep laughter spoils the image she had been trying to create.

            We all sit around talking about the current state of our lives for quite a bit, but the conversation eventually turns to Mark.  Everyone reveals how they met him and how he's changed his life, but such a downbeat conversation suddenly turns into an unsuccessful attempt at analyzing all his faults.  Before long, all conversation ceases as we find it to difficult to continue talking while we're laughing so hard.  Despite the fun, our family is incomplete without Mark and I hope he realizes just how much we all need him. 

{Mark}

            I don't know what made me pause in front of the door before entering.  Their mingling voices conjoined with laughter bring a smile to my face.  I haven't been the happiest person lately; maybe they can give some meaning to this empty life.  But as I prepare to go inside, I realize that it's me they are laughing about revealing how big of a sham I am- making a joke out of my life.  The door cowards behind me as I clutch my camera in my arms like a loving father.  My heart echoes in my ears, body becomes unusually cold.  I have nothing, except for the small solace I find through my camera.  But even the blinking record light laughs at my feeble attempts at creativity.  Their laughing voices, mocking my whole livelihood seems like it's increasingly louder, despite the walls and my statuesque pose.  I try to ignore all the feelings inside as they express their true opinions of me, but I can't connect my mind and my body. They are all in there having a great old time talking about how much they can't stand me, wishing I was never around, making a mockery of everything I find sacred.  They never cared about me it was all a charade, but deep inside I think I knew it all along.  My only solace, my camera, suddenly isn't important any more.  I never thought it was possible to feel so completely alone.  I finally will myself to move, dropping my camera with a loud thud, before fleeing into the treacherous city I called home.  What kind of home is it where all you can think about is leaving or just giving up?  I have to get away-I can't take any more…

{Roger}

            A loud noise outside of the door finally interrupts the jovial atmosphere.  We all scamper off to our designated hiding positions, waiting for him to walk through the door.  But the stunned expression on his face never happens; instead the pounding of feet in the stairwell followed by the slamming of the door below reverberates throughout the entire building.

            Maureen was the first to respond, "Damn! Someone was angry…Wonder who that could have been?  I wish he'd get here already-I don't think I can hang around this place much longer."

            For some reason something doesn't feel right- I can't put my finger on what exactly but my heart is telling me something's wrong.  I walk across the room to the door; grasping the handle, which is unusually warm, before pulling open the door.  No one's in the stairwell, but I notice something in the corner next to the door.  I reach across to pick it up the black object noting the familiar shape.  SHIT!  The realization finally hit's me-this wasn't just any old camera but Mark's camera, the camera he hardly ever lets out of his sight much less leave lying around in a stairwell.  I try to recollect what could have caused Mark to drop the camera, but all that comes to mind is… I don't think of anything else as I dash down the stairs and out the doorway screaming his name.  Mark dropped his camera, the only thing that matters to him I can't imagine how our conversation must have sounded from his perspective-he thinks we don't care, that we hate him-shit…

{Mark}

            As I run away, I hear Roger's voice screaming for me to stop, that it was all a misunderstanding but all I can think of is getting away.  My feet take me further away at a pace faster than any record I broke in track during high school.  I don't stop until breathing becomes so difficult that I have to stop.  Every breath is an effort and I begin to feel lightheaded.  Sweat steams up my glasses and but I can't see through my tears anyways.  I lean against the side of an old warehouse, letting my feet fold beneath me.  Why? What did I do to deserve all this misery?  I have no hope-nothing can ease the pain inside.  There are only two options: I leave New York for a life of pain somewhere else or I end all this pain now.  The choice is easy to make-

            My whole body, damp from perspiration and crying, begins to shake as the cold air rushes over.  I find the strength to move and set about to find the one who can ease this pain.  I walk several blocks, before I see him sitting under the overhang of a magazine stand, hidden in the dark.  As I approach him, he stands giving me a look of pure disgust- similar to the ones I've always kept for him.  After seeing the power he held over Roger and Mimi, it still seems strange for me to be searching him out.  I look into his dark eyes before mumbling, "Hey."

            "Ah- Mr. Movie Man never thought I'd see a day when you came to me.  What, Mimi or Roger couldn't come on their own so they sent you as their errand boy?" he leers back.

            "Mimi's dead and Roger is still clean.  This-this…this is for me.  I don't got much cash but I need whatever I can get."

            His laughter mocks all the times I pestered Mimi or Roger about their drug usage. "I'm sure we can work something out.  We're both business men now aren't we?"  He leads me away asking, "What do you need?"

            "Something to make this pain go away…I don't want to feel anything…"

            As I walk through the street a little while later, I finally am able to feel some peace.  I make a circle around St. Mark's Place, pausing to ask forgiveness for what I'm about to do, before finally making my way back over to Tompkins Square Park.  This late in the evening the chess tables stand empty and I'm able to find somewhere to be alone without little effort.  I push all my thoughts of friends and family away, silently telling myself that I'm completely alone-that I can do this.  After watching both Roger and Mimi do this in the past, I know what I should do, but the needle still stings as it enters my pale, quivering arm.  Before I can change my mind again, I push until every single drop is gone.  I let it all fall to the ground and clutch my coat around my shoulders.  Closing my eyes, I let my pain fade away and await the end.

{Roger} 

            Where the hell can he be?  Everyone has been searching for him for a couple hours now and there has still been no sign of him.  My eyes burn, as I try to push away tears yet again.  Somehow my path leads me to Tompkins Square, sitting down, I finally allow myself to think about what has happened.  Mark must have heard us talk about how much we hated him not how much he mean to all of us.  He couldn't see our faces to know it was all a joke, so he ran.  If I could only have stopped him, he would have realized just how miscued his belief was.  I just hope I can find him before he does something too rash.

            A familiar whimper nearby pierces my thoughts, bringing me back to reality.  I call his name softly before allowing myself to stand.  I follow the sound as it leads me around the dog path to where there's a bench under a large tree.  A body is curled up on the bench hidden in the shadow of the tree, and as I approach I notice the plastic sack on the ground lying next to a needle.  Please god, no- My hands begin to shake and I tell myself that it's not him, but looking down I notice his very familiar coat and scarf.  Reaching out I try to turn him around, but his body begins to convulse beneath my hands.  I can't seem to stop what's happening, so I grab his listless body and carry him until I'm capable of no more.  I can' think of anything else except bringing him back.  I don't care if I'm screaming, crying, look like an idiot; all I care about is that Mark is okay.  Oh God, please let him live…     


{Mark}

            Suddenly Roger is here and I feel him carry my body trying to maintain some sort of composure.  I'm finally placed down on a soft surface and I hear him pleading with me not to give up.  "Fuck Mark-you can't be doing this!" he screams as he shakes my convulsing body.  His eyes agape with terror and anger flash before mine.  He pounds on my already limp shoulders attempting to stop the inevitable.  It's too late for his sympathy and apologies now.  His pleading face-the last image before it all goes black.  The noises buzz around my head, but become are an afterthought in comparison with the sensations that shoot through my quivering body.  My body is shutting down, but my self-loathing still remains telling me to give up like the quitter that I am.  For some reason despite everything his screaming voice gives me a perverse sense of satisfaction-funny you have to die for someone to care about you.  "Wake your ass up- come on Mark breathe-don't give up this easy.  Fuck you Mark! You can't leave me like Mimi and April!  Dammit! SOMEONE? ANYONE?? We need a doctor!  Mark! You can't leave me like this-fuck-come on you can pull through this-how could you do this to me?  Stay awake-it'll pass-don't give up-oh god, please not yet." 

[Could it go on as a series?]


	2. Alive?

[Author Notes- Well I didn't really get too many reviews on this story, but I still have to continue the story; call it a weir

[Author Notes- Well I didn't really get too many reviews on this story, but I still have to continue the story; call it a weird fascination with an angst/depressed suicidal Mark.Warning for all those m/r haters- you might not want to read from this chapter on- just leave it a once chapter story.Once again I don't own any of these characters, I just like to screw with their lives-Emily]

"Roger Davis? Mr. Roger Davis?" a voice calls to me breaking the monotony of the silence.

Lifting my head, I finally noticed a small man looking down at me with a worried expression on his face."Yea, that's me.Is he alive?Is he going to make it?How bad is it?"

"Calm down, Mr. Davis.First off we have your friend stabilized at the moment, but he hasn't woken up yet.He injected himself with a tremendous amount of heroin, but it appears that he got help in time because we were able to inject him with a drug called Naloxone, which when it's injected intravenously immediately reverses the side effects of opiates on the system.We started him out on a 2mg drip and have increased it every ten minutes.He has received 8mg as of right now, and his body has showed signs that it has flushed out of his system but if need be he can receive up to 2 more mg.We really can't be sure what damage his body withstood until he wakes up, but as of right now the prognosis looks good."

"So you think he'll be okay?"

"Physically? Yes.Emotionally? I'm not sure.You're friend must be suffering through some extreme emotional problems right now.Your friend is an _extremely_ lucky man, he injected enough heroin to kill a man twice his size yet he managed to survive.What happens from here is unknown, but your friend is going to need to be placed on a bunch of medications and is going to need to see a therapist a few times a week.He's going to need you to be by his side, to be his friend as well as partner.Show him how much you love him, in more ways than just by being here, if you know what I mean."

I blushed as I realized that he assumed that Mark and I were a couple.I guess the assumption isn't too far off the way we always bicker and goof around with one another.But rather than spending time correcting him, I just wanted to see him, "Can I see him?"

"Of course.You'll need to keep it quite, because his body will be still hyper sensitive to the different senses but it shouldn't be a problem.Follow me."

[later]

I don't know how much time passed, but after watching over a hundred people pass by my chair I felt a hand touch my shoulder.Looking up, I noticed Collins peering back at me with tired eyes. "Hey man. How's he doing?" he asked.

"I don't know Collins-I have no clue.They injected him with this drug, Naloxone or something like that; that's supposed to reverse the effects of the drug.You have no idea how pale he was-he didn't even look alive when I found him besides the fact he was twitching really weird.He was barely breathing and I could hardly find a pulse…I'm just wondering how much he took to cause that sort of reaction- you get drowsy right after you inject the stuff and then get really energetic, you know? He must have taken enough that it slowed down his heart so much that the opiates didn't even give him the high. Why would he do something like this?"

"I don't know, Roger.You know how upset Mark's been lately.Something he heard must have just triggered everything he's been fighting.This must have seemed like his only option-to…to end his life." 

"Alls I can think of is that he heard us all kidding around, before he arrived and thought we were serious.You know, when we were talking about how much we all hated him and how big of a loser he was…God, Collins I don't know what I'd do if he doesn't make it through this.He means so much to me-more than even I knew-or he'll ever know." My voice faded away as I got lost once again in my thoughts, barely noticing the tears that had begun to trickle down my face for the thousandth time that night.

We sat there in silence for quite a long time both thinking about Mark, silently praying that he'd make it through this alive and healthy.After awhile, I noticed that I hadn't seen Maureen or Joanne since arriving at the hospital. "Where did Maureen and Joanne go?"

"I think they were headed down to the cafeteria or something, but Maureen was going to call Mark's mom first."

"Damn!His mother doesn't need to know about this, she already worries about him enough living in the city, without knowing that he tried to commit suicide."

Collins nodded his head, remembering all the times she'd call just to make sure they had enough toilet paper and groceries, "I don't think she was going to mention what he did, just the fact that he was in the hospital.She probably just wanted to talk to her.You remember how they used to talk when Mark and her were still dating- you'd think Marks' mom died and went to heaven getting to hear all kinds of gossip from his girlfriend."

"That woman can be so frustrating sometimes.God, I worry about him so much sometimes…I'll be lost without him."

"You _love_ him, don't you?" Collins asked placing a hand on Roger's shoulder as he wept.

"Of course I do.He's been my best friend for the longest time."

"No-Roger, you didn't hear me did you?You _love_ him don't you?Like _love _him like you _loved _Mimi, like _couple love._"

I never really even thought about it until he mentioned it, but I guess it does make sense.I love Mark- not just as my best friend that's been there for me all these years but also as something more.I couldn't imagine living without Mark in my life; pestering me to take my medicine, goofing around with in the loft when no one else was around, spending time just being quite as we both were lost in our separate art, to tell all my problems to; he's my soul mate.But I'm not gay…I've never thought of guys that way and how am I to know if he even feels the same way about me?Why the hell do I have to realize this now?

"Yea…um…god, I don't know.I think I love him, but it just doesn't make any sense.Dammit! Why did this have to happen?I didn't even think of Mark in _that way_ until ten fucking minutes ago, when the doctor told me that they flushed the drugs from his system but wouldn't know anything until he woke up.I mean, I never thought of guys in that way, I'm not _gay_."

[more to come soon, I promise- please review]


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